


Reality Of Truth

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-30
Updated: 2006-03-30
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:09:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Postep, 3.15 "Harbinger."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Takes place 3 days after the events of 3.15 "Harbinger."  
  
Beta: Darrah  


* * *

Dec 31st, 2153

_'When the Xindi destroy Earth, my people will prevail.'_

Three days ago, Jonathan Archer had heard those words spoken to him by the alien from the trans-dimensional realm in Sickbay, just before he vanished into thin air. Since then, he'd heard those words echo in his brain over and over again. Who was this alien? Who had sent him and what were their plans? He was sure it had something to do with the creators of the spheres, and his gut told him he now had more to worry about than just the Xindi threat. The sphere builders could possibly pose an even greater danger. Always endless questionsâ€”he wondered if he'd ever get any answers.

He exited the Command Center and walked in the direction of his quarters. He was exhausted. The last few days had been trying to say the least. First there'd been the appearance of the mysterious alien in the pod they'd found in the gravimetric disturbance. They'd brought him onboard and taken him to Sickbay. After a few hours there, the alien had escaped, made his way to Engineering, and attempted to sabotage the warp engine. Then, to add to the captain's problems, Lieutenant Reed and Major Hayes had regressed to five year olds and decided to tear each other to shreds. He hoped things would settle down to normal soon. Normal? What was normal? There was no such thing as normal anymoreâ€”at least not since the Xindi had attacked Earth and Enterprise had been sent into the Expanse.

As he entered his quarters, he glanced at the chronometer. It was 2345 hours. In 15 minutes the new year would be ushered in. He knew that Hoshi had organized a gathering in the Mess Hall to see the new year in, but he was in no mood to attend. He was too tired and drained to put on a show for his crew and wear the captainly mask. But he'd allowed Hoshi to put something together when she'd asked for his permission. He didn't see why his crew should suffer just because he didn't feel up to partaking in the new year festivities. He gathered this year's celebration would be a far more sombre and quiet affair than last year's.

Everything had been different last year. He'd loved his job, it was the fulfilment of a life long dream. Now his job was burdensome. This was not the way he had planned it. He hadn't joined Starfleet to go fight the Xindi. He was a born explorer, he wanted to learn about comets, stars and asteroids. He wanted to visit new planets and meet new species. He didn't want to be the leader in a war. He was a peaceable man. Well, he had been a peaceable man once.

Jonathan poured himself a drinkâ€”he needed it. He gazed out his porthole window and watched the stars zoom by as the ship travelled at warp. He swallowed the whiskey in one gulp; as the liquid travelled down his throat it created a warm sensation. He enjoyed the feeling and so poured himself another. He felt himself begin to unwind.

The last few minutes of the old year passed as Jonathan Archer spent them in solitude. His only company was Porthos, who was fast asleep on his little mat. As midnight struck, Jonathan raised his glass and whispered, "Happy New Year, Porthos." The beagle must have heard him as he opened his eyes and perked up his ears to his master. He put his glass down and walked over to his pet to pat him on the head. "Go back to sleep, boy," he told him affectionately.

Jonathan showered and got into bed. He turned out the lights. He was tired but knew too well that sleep would not come right away. Since entering the Expanse he'd had trouble sleeping. He was fortunate if he slept 4 or 5 hours a night. Often, he'd just lie awake, stare at the ceiling in his quarters and think...

_'When the Xindi destory Earth, my people will prevail.'_

Again the alien's words reverberated in his head. He feared for Earth. He knew they were getting closer to the weapon as they headed towards Azati Prime, he just hoped they would get there in time. Now he wondered if these sphere builders might just try to stop him. Were the Xindi their pawns in some kind of universal chess game?

He had to succeed though; failure was not an option.

He closed his eyes and turned onto his side, hoping that would bring him closer to sleep. His brain continued to be active though as thoughts swept through it. The last few days he'd been plagued by guilt over his actions toward the alien. His own behaviour shocked and saddened him, though he knew it was necessary. He'd felt guilty about a lot of his actions since entering the Expanse. He'd discovered on this mission that too often he had to temporarily shut off his moral compass and bend his own ethics. He hated that. But he'd usually serve his penance at night when his conscience would have a field day and ride roughshod over him. Then when sleep did finally claim him, his subconscious would take over the job, and his dreams would be filled with disturbing imagery while voices from the past would haunt him.

Tonight was no different. Jonathan succumbed to his exhaustion and fell asleep.

_'Mercy is not a quality that'll serve you well in the Expanse,' taunted the Osaarian._

_'So, what are you going to do? Drag me down to Sickbay? Force me onto a bio-bed at gunpoint?' Sim angrily questioned him._

_'Captain, this man is dying a painful death, to keep him conscious is unethical,' warned Phlox._

_'In your log, there is an incident with a prisonerâ€” an interrogation that made use of an airlock,' D'Jamat stated._

_Over and over the images and voices would repeat themselves fuelling his guilt and hatred of himself. Then he saw himself standing on the bridge and watching Earth on the viewscreen being incinerated. He felt totally helpless and lost. All his efforts had been for nothing! Earth was no more!_

Jonathan woke up abruptly gasping for breath. He was soaked in sweat. He felt a sharp pain in his chest. He turned the lights on to 50% and tried to slow down his breathing and rapid heartbeat. "It was just a dream," he spoke aloud to himself. Just a dream, just a dream. He got out of bed and sauntered over to the bathroom to pour himself a glass of water and drank from it. As he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, he noticed how thin and tired he looked. He hadn't been eating much of late, skipping a lot of meals. He never had the time anymore and he seemed to be always running on adrenaline and caffeine. He sighed as he concluded his appearance was obviously the result of his own neglect.

His exited the bathroom but did not wish to return to bed. He feared sleepâ€”he couldn't deal with the taunting voices and images. He decided to go see Phlox, maybe he could help him out.

Jonathan entered Sickbay and found the doctor merrily talking to his menagerie.

"Ah, Captain, it's a little late for you to be up, is it not?" asked Phlox.

"Yes, it is late. I was wondering..." Archer was about to continue when Phlox interrupted him.

"I was hoping to see you at the New Year's Eve party. It is a shame you did not attend. Happy New Year, Captain, " said Phlox.

"Thanks."

Phlox continued unabated, "It would have done you some good to relax and enjoy yourself a little. I think you could do with some stress relief. I left just after midnight as I had some experiments running that needed my attention, but I must say Hoshi made an excellent effort in organising the party. I believe the crew enjoyed themselves. I was hoping to hear that perhaps you had attended after I left. "

Phlox remembered the times before the Expanse when the captain had been the most sociable person onboard Enterprise, fraternizing with commanders and crewmen alike. Now he seemed to be a loner, isolating himself from everyone.

"I didn't want to go," Jonathan finally managed to interrupt Phlox's long winded monologue. "I was wondering if you could give me something to help me sleep."

"Since when have you been having trouble sleeping, Captain?" the physician inquired.

"I don't want to go into it now, Doc. If you could just give me a hypospray that will knock me out for a couple hours, that would be appreciated."

"Well I still need to know how long you've been having these symptoms, I don't just dispense medication on a whim, Captain."

This was exasperating for Jonathan. He just wanted a dreamless, uninterrupted night's sleep. Was that really too much to ask?

"Listen, Doc, I'm tired, I'm irritable and I'm under a lot of stress. Surely you can understand that. Let's not turn this into a discussion. It's 1:30am. If I can get to sleep in 30 mins, I might be able to get 4 hours sleep in before I need to get ready for my shift."

Phlox studied his captain. He did indeed seem to be distressed. The doctor still felt Archer wasn't telling him the whole story, but decided to relent and give him the sleeping medication. He went to one of his cabinets and retrieved a hypospray, then walked back to the captain and injected him in the neck.

"There you go, Captain. I hope this works. But this is a one time only thing. Next time, I expect more of an explanation of your symptoms."

Archer nodded and thanked him. He exited and walked along the corridor. He could already feel the drug beginning to take effect before he made it back to his quarters. He felt a little hazy and out of focus. As he entered his room, he threw himself on the bed and closed his eyes. Within a few minutes he was sound asleep.

* * *

1st January, 2154

"T'Pol to Captain Archer."

Jonathan was abruptly woken by the voice of his first officer on the comm.

"T'Pol to Captain Archer."

This was the second time she spoke. He felt groggy and uncoordinated. He was just about to hit the comm button and respond when her voice again repeated for the third time, "T'Pol to Captain Archer, are you all right, sir?"

"Yes? What is it?" he finally responded with aggravation in his voice.

"Captain, it is now 0815 hours, your shift began 15 mins ago. Are you ill?"

"No, " he responded, shocked at the actual time. He explained, "I must have overslept. Iâ€™ll be there in 10 minutes. Archer out." With that he ended their communiqué.

He couldn't believe he'd overslept. What kind of an example was this to set for the crew? This had never happened before. Obviously the hypospray had done too good a job. He hoped T'Pol hadn't contacted him from the bridge. The last thing he needed was for the whole crew to hear his groggy, sleepy voice.

He got out of bed. His brain felt like it was in a thick fogâ€”obviously a side effect of the medication. He hoped a quick shower would wake him up.

After his shower, he got dressed, and made his way to the Bridge. As the turbolift doors opened, everyone's eyes focused on the captain. Archer suddenly felt very self-conscious. 'Okay, the show's over. I'm here, I'm alive. So what if I overslept? It wasn't that big a deal. I'm only human,' he thought. Couldn't his own crew give him a break?

"Morning all," he said as he made a quick escape for his Ready Room.

Archer entered his Ready Room to find T'Pol sitting at his desk. She got out of his chair and stood up.

"Are you quite well, sir?" she inquired.

"I'm fine, T'Pol. Now do you have the duty roster for today?"

She passed it to him.

"Here it is, sir."

"Thanks. You're dismissed."

She turned on her heel and exited. He felt slightly disappointed. Part of him had wanted her to question him further and inquire as to why he had been late. He would have feigned mild irritation at her questions, but underneath it would have been comforting for him to know that she cared enough to ask. She had given up too easily just now and it wasn't like her. Well it wasn't like the T'Pol he knew before the Expanse. Things had changed considerably.

Jonathan sat down in his chair. He was really tired and groggy but figured some coffee ought to perk him up. His stomach was also reminding him that he hadn't had any breakfast. His busy schedule wouldn't allow him to go down to the Mess Hall and get some, so he decided to contact chef and ordered some toast and coffee to be brought to him.

He glanced over the duty roster T'Pol had handed him. Everything seemed to be in order. T'Pol was a very efficient first officer.

* * *

The morning passed without incident and lunchtime rolled around. He was grateful that at least today things were running smoothly. He still felt incredibly tired and weary. He rolled his head around slowly, trying to get the kinks out of his neck. He sighed heavily. He decided to go get something to eat and proceeded out of his Ready Room onto the Bridge. He was about to ask T'Pol to join him for lunch when he noticed her absence from her station. He enquired of Reed as to her whereabouts.

"I believe Commander Tucker required her assistance in Engineering," the security officer replied.

"Thanks." He was a little disappointed at her absence, he didn't really feel like eating alone. He wondered why Trip would need her in Engineering. If it had been something important, he was sure he would have been informed. He exited the bridge and made his way to the Mess Hall.

As he waited for his food to be served he stared into space and listened to the gentle hum of the warp engines as they propelled Enterprise through space. He felt terribly alone. It was bothering him today more than usual and he wasn't sure why. He'd eaten alone many times before, but something nagged at him. He found his thoughts wandering to T'Pol.

Beautiful T'Pol. She had plagued his dreams and fantasies for far too long. It had been almost three years since the day of their first meeting and he'd been entranced by her beauty from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. Of course, that hadn't stopped him threatening to knock her on her assâ€”she may have been gorgeous to look at but it only took a couple sentences to spill from her self-righteous lips for her to completely get under his skin.

However, within a few months of her being on board, he couldn't imagine having anyone else in her place. She was the most efficient officer onboard Enterprise. She had a wealth of knowledge and advice and had got the crew through some very tight scrapes in the past. While he freely acknowledged her beauty, he was well aware of the fact that she had a mind to match and he enjoyed engaging it. Their discussions were often thought provoking. They didn't always agree, but as time went on, a bond of loyalty, trust and deep respect was formed between them. Jonathan came to acknowledge that in a way Soval had done him a great favour by insisting T'Pol be posted to Enterprise.

So yes, she was a very efficient officer, but she was also a beautiful womanâ€”a woman to whom he was attracted, and this he freely admitted to himself . Well, in actual fact, it was more than attraction, but so what? She was completely unattainable. Worse, she was probably dating his best friend, if shipboard gossip was anything to go by. He didn't know why he was letting overheard rumours get to him, but they seemed to nag at him today. Maybe it was because in his flights of fancy, he'd conned himself into believing that one day...maybe one day they could have been more than just captain and first officer. A lot more.

If things had been different then perhaps when the mission had been over he would have told her the truth as he'd planned to. That was an impossibility now as he came to terms with the fact that he'd waited too long and his best friend had beat him to the punch.

When his conscious wasn't tormenting him with guilt trips, he would dream of T'Pol. This wasn't something new to being in the Expanse, he'd had dreams about T'Pol before. He recalled the first time this had happened, it was when he'd spent the night in Sickbay fretting over Porthos.

_It was pouring with rain. Jonathan could hear Phlox reciting some kind of eulogy, but it was for Porthos. Porthos was dead? His Bridge crew were in attendanceâ€”Trip, Malcolm and Travis, all dressed in dark long coats holding umbrellas. T'Pol stood at his side. He noticed he was the only one without an umbrella and found this odd. The water had soaked through his coat and he felt chilled to the bone. Droplets of rain were running down his face._

_All of a sudden he felt a warm sensation in his handâ€”someone's touch. He looked up and directly into T'Pol's eyes. He was a little confused at her actions but didn't want to question her behaviour as it wasn't unwelcome. Her hand was in his, slowly entwining her fingers with his own. It felt...so good. No, it felt incredible. Her touch was warm and sensual, but at the same time deeply soothing and comforting. The warmth travelled from his fingers and up his arm. He no longer felt cold; instead her touch gave him the sensation of being near a warm hearth fire. He noted that the rain was no longer running down his face. T'Pol had shared her umbrella with him. The loneliness and despair he'd felt at Porthos' death was fading into the background. He was no longer alone. With her one touch he felt the promise of a bright future...together._

_The scene changed. They were no longer at the cemetery. Instead, they were back onboard Enterprise. Phlox had just informed them they were to remain in Decon as they had picked up a pathogen. Hoshi had taken Porthos and left them alone. Jonathan turned his back to T'Pol to get some decon gel out of a container. He turned back to face her and saw her approaching him. She'd stripped out of all her undergarments and was completely nude. His breath caught in his throat. His eyes wandered greedily over her beautifully curvaceous body as she approached him. Why was she doing this? He decided not to question his good fortune. Wasnâ€™t this what he wanted...had wanted...for months?_

_As their bodies came into contact he could feel the heat radiating off of hers. She had some of the gel in her hands and began to rub it into his shoulders. Her touch was sensual, arousing and exhilarating. This was not the behaviour of a disinterested first officer. He felt desired and boy did it feel good! He returned the favour and slowly, tenderly, rubbed gel into her neck and shoulders, enjoying the feel of her skin under his fingertips._

_They both wanted more, but it was T'Pol who seemed to be leading and taking the initiative. Their heads moved closer to each other until their lips were mere centimeters apart. The tension between them was almost unbearable. Jonathan could feel her hot breath on his face. And then it happened. She lunged for his mouth and kissed him fully on the lips._

Then he'd woken up. He'd cursed Phlox for making so much noise in Sickbay and disturbing this most enjoyable dream. Of course he'd explained to the doctor that he'd dreamt Porthos had died. There had been no point in fuelling the doctor's suspicions about his supposed sexual tension with T'Pol.

That had been the first dream but definitely not the last. Since that first time he'd seen T'Pol in his dreams many times and the images felt very real. In his dreams she loved him, cared for him, and desired him. She was the perfect woman, fulfilling every wish, need and desire.

At times, his dreams were so vivid he'd wake up calling out her name, expecting her to be there with him, lying in his arms and sharing his bed. When there was no response, and no warm body to snuggle up withâ€”it was then that the loneliness struck into the very core of his being. Reality was very cruelâ€”he was totally and completely alone. There was no one to share his inner thoughts, feelings or doubts with. Who could he tell that he wasn't sure of himself? That he felt guilty for his actions? That he hated the man he'd been forced to become?

The door from the galley to the Captain's Mess opened and Crewman Carter entered with the captain's lunch, and placed it on the table. Jonathan found himself awoken from his recollections.

"Thanks, Matt." Jonathan often called crewmembers by their first names to put them at ease and make the atmosphere more informal.

"You're welcome. Was there anything else you required, sir?" Carter questioned.

"No, that's fine."

Carter exited and the captain was alone again. Jonathan hungrily tucked into his lasagne. As he ate he found his thoughts returning to T'Pol.

He missed her. He missed their friendship. He missed the times they used to spend together off duty, sometimes sitting together in the Mess Hall in the early hours of the morning just talking. He'd often found her there at the end of a shift and it had become a kind of ritual and something he'd look forward to. On the odd times she wasn't there because he'd come too late, he'd been disappointed. However, those times had been few and far between. Most times he'd find her sitting at a table, studying a PADD intensely, occasionally sipping her mint or camomile tea. He'd sit down and join her with a cup of camomile tea. She'd commented once that camomile was helpful in attaining a good night's sleep and so he'd followed up on her advice.

Usually they'd discussed ship's business, but now and then they'd talked about personal things. He'd opened up to her about his father, his ambitions to be captain of the first warp 5 ship and other personal minutiae. She in turn had spoken a little more of her life before coming to Earth, and what her early ambitions had been. Jonathan recalled these talks fondly. He wondered what had happened to them. Neither one of them seemed to have the time anymore for personal interaction with the other. He was usually holed up in the Command Center till well past midnight and she...well he guessed she was busy performing neuropressure on his chief engineer.

He remembered how flattered he'd felt when she'd asked him to assist her in the capture of Menos. It had been from that time onwards that their relationship had gone from strength to strength. He recalled how she'd insisted on accompanying him to the dark matter nebula and how she'd managed to needle out of him his feelings over A.G.'s death. Despite his protestations, he'd needed a friend that day and she'd been there. Who would have thought it? A Human confiding in a Vulcan. His younger self would never have believed it. Upon their return to Enterprise, she'd suggested they name the nebula in memory of his friend. He'd been deeply touched at her idea.

Why wasn't she like that any more? Surely she must have noticed how he'd changed, yet she said nothing. Perhaps her time was taken up with thoughts of a certain chief engineer.

He was well aware of the rumours circulating the ship. They'd been going on for months. At first he'd laughed at them, thinking he didn't keep his crew busy enough if they had time to idly gossip about the sub-commander and the chief engineer. Then as time wore on, he began to wonder himself. Trip and T'Pol did seem to spend a lot of time together. Trip's evenings were usually full three or four times a week. Jonathan had invited his friend for a nightcap a few times and at each attempt had been politely refused. It was either, _"I'm really tired, Cap'n, maybe another night,"_ or _"I've got plans this evening."_ Trip had never outrightly said he was having neuropressure treatment from T'Pol. Jonathan wondered whyâ€”if there was nothing to be embarrassed of, or to hide, why keep it a secret? It was Trip's secrecy that made Jonathan wonder if the rumours were true.

He'd only found out about the neuropressure sessions when Phlox had casually mentioned how he'd been able to cure the crew of the Lo'que'que virus. Phlox had explained how he'd used a sample of T'Pol's DNA from the peaches Trip had given her. Jonathan had been curious as to why Trip would have given T'Pol fruit and Phlox had informed him they were a gift in return for the neuropressure sessions T'Pol had been performing. Jonathan remembered his reaction as if had just happened yesterday. He'd felt surprise coupled with a pang of jealousy and also fear. Fear that while T'Pol might be out of his reach while he was captain, perhaps she wasn't out of Trip's.

Jonathan's reverie came to a halt as he heard the comm buzz.

"Mayor Hayes to the Captain."

Jonathan turned, hit the comm button and responded. "Archer here."

"Captain, I was wondering if I could see you some time this afternoon. A matter has arisen that I need to discuss with you."

Jonathan rolled his eyes. 'Not problems with Reed again,' he thought. Just how much was one captain supposed to bear?

"Major, I believe you informed me only 3 days ago that the matter with yourself and Lieutenant Reed was settled. " Jonathan tried to keep the irritation out of his voice but was failing completely. He knew he shouldn't be having this conversation over the comm, but right now he didn't care. Just the thought of the aggravation that Reed and Hayes had put him through a few days earlier was enough to give him heartburn.

"Sir, this is another matter entirely, and one that requires your personal attention," Hayes informed him.

"I see." Whatever this matter was it sounded like more trouble was brewing. "Meet me in my Ready Room in an hour and we'll talk then. Archer out." With that he ended their conversation without even giving Hayes a chance to respond as to whether the time was convenient for him. Jonathan wondered what kind of personnel headache he would have to sort through now. Why couldn't the crew just get on and focus on the mission? Wasn't that what he as the captain had to do all the time?

He finished his lunch and left. He walked down the corridor and saw the turbolift doors starting to close. He didn't want to wait around, so sprinted up the corridor and using his hand stopped the door from closing shut. As he entered, he noticed the lift was not unoccupied.

"Captain," the familiar voice of his Vulcan first officer greeted him.

"T'Pol," he returned. "Are you going to the Bridge?"

"Yes," she replied, "And you?"

"Yes, the Bridge."

T'Pol pressed the correct button for the Bridge.

"Are you only returning now from Engineering?" Jonathan's curiosity was getting the better of him.

"Yes, I have been assisting Commander Tucker."

"I see." He was about to enquire more when to his disappointment the lift doors opened and T'Pol exited onto the bridge. He guessed she'd inform him later as to the happenings in Engineering in her daily report. He just hoped she hadn't gone down there on a pretense.

He walked out of the lift and sat down in the captain's chair. He didn't want to go to his Ready Room at the moment and be alone, he preferred the company of the Bridge crew. Besides, Hayes would be coming to speak to him within the hour, he'd return to his Ready Room then.

* * *

Major Hayes was promptly on time. Archer and Hayes entered the captain's Ready Room together.

"Take a seat, Major," Archer invited.

"Thank you, sir."

"So, what's the problem this time?" Archer inquired.

"I need to speak to you about Commander Tucker."

"Trip? What's he done?" Jonathan was surprisedâ€”Trip was the last person he thought Hayes might have a problem with. They hardly had any dealings together, apart from the recent drills in the gym.

"Captain, I believe he has been fraternizing with one of my officersâ€”Corporal Cole to be exact."

Jonathan couldn't believe his ears. Was this true? What about all the rumours indicating that Trip and T'Pol were involved? Surely Trip couldn't be in a relationship with both women. Maybe the rumours had been just thatâ€”rumours; and he'd been gullible enough to believe them.

"Really?" Archer questioned Hayes, trying to keep the joy and relief out of his voice. His mind was still reeling from the newsâ€”Trip was seeing Amanda. T'Pol was free, unattached.

"Yes, sir. Corporal Cole displayed unprofessional behaviour towards the commander during the recent drills and I have spoken to her personally on the matter. I would appreciate if you would do the same with Commander Tucker."

"What unprofessional behaviour?"

"Corporal Cole was displaying affection in public, during the drill. I believe you'll back me up when I say such displays have to be discouraged."

"Yes...of course, Major," Archer replied, his imagination getting the better of him. Just what had the young, attractive Corporal done? "So how does Trip fit into all of this?" he questioned.

"Corporal Cole was at fault in this instance, but I'd appreciate if you spoke to Commander Tucker on the matter and discourage him from furthering the relationship, at least in public. "

"Oh, I see," said Archer. "Just as long as there aren't any overt displays of affection in public between couples, you'll turn a blind eye." Archer smiled, he agreed with Hayes' line of thinking.

"Captain, these people are only human. I'm sure there are many relationships taking place amongst the crew right under your nose without your knowledge."

Archer had to agree with him. He hadn't given the matter much thought, but guessed that Hayes was right. Members of the crew probably did seek solace in the opposite sex.

"So you just want me to ask Tucker to keep a low profile?" Archer asked.

"That would be greatly appreciated, sir. It would set a good example."

"Of course," agreed Archer.

Hayes got up. He was glad their little tete a tete was over. He didn't feel entirely comfortable in the captain's presence, especially after the incident a few days ago with Reed.

"Thanks for your time, Captain."

"No problem, Major."

Hayes left, relieved the meeting had gone without a hitch.

Jonathan sat down in his chair with a big grin on his face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled. He was in an incredibly good mood. He could have hugged Hayes for dispelling all the rumours about Trip and T'Pol being involved. He laughed at himself for being such a sucker. He also felt a glimmer of hope within himself with regards to T'Pol. Maybe it wasn't too late....

He was happy for Trip. Amanda was a nice girl. He hoped something would come of itâ€”maybe Amanda could finally help Trip deal with his grief over his sister's death. That would certainly put an end to his neuropressure sessions with T'Pol. He couldn't imagine Corporal Cole being happy with Trip spending night after night with another woman, whether she was a Vulcan or not.

He decided he'd go to Engineering now and offer Trip his well wishes, of course thinly disguised as a reprimand for accepting displays of affection in public. Maybe he could weasel out of Trip just what Amanda had done in public to get Hayes so worked up and nervous.

* * *

Trip looked up and saw the captain enter. He assumed he'd come down to Engineering to check on the status of the repairs to the warp engines. Everything was running at around 95% efficiency now, despite the alien's best efforts to sabotage the engine and the ship a few days ago. Tucker felt proud of his crew and hoped the captain would be impressed with their efforts.

"Everythin' running smoothly, Cap'n," Trip informed him as Archer approached. "We should be up to 100% efficiency in a couple days."

"That's great news, Trip."

Trip noted the captain sounded and looked a lot more cheerful than he'd done in months. What had brought about such a change?

"Trip, you got a minute? I need to talk to you about something."

"Sure, Cap'n," Trip acquiesced, curious as to what this was all about. He stepped down from the warp engine.

"Why don't we go to the Captain's Mess and discuss it over coffee?"

"Well I'm kinda in the middle of something right now, will it take long?" Trip was a little concerned that he might not be around to oversee the current diagnostic they were running.

"Not more than ten minutes. I'm sure you can leave Rostov in charge, he's pretty capable."

Trip felt rather protective of the engines, but decided if the captain wanted to speak to him in private it had to be something urgent, and agreed.

They left Engineering together, walking in the direction of the Mess Hall. They got two coffees from the beverage dispenser and made their way to the Captain's Mess.

"Major Hayes came to see me earlier," Archer explained as he sat down at the table.

"Oh?" Trip was curious as to how Major Hayes pertained to this matter they were about to discuss.

"Yes, he informed me that you and Corporal Amanda Cole were engaging in a relationship."

"He did?" Trip had a slightly confused expression on his face.

Archer noted the look on Trip's face and concluded it might be guilt, so decided to reassure his friend. "Don't worry, I'm not going to chew you out over the fraternization rules, Trip. I can understand you've been lonely. It's hard for all of us out here in the Expanse. I just wanted to ask you and Amanda to keep a lower profile and set a better example for the rest of the crew. So no flirtation in public, okay?"

"Cap'n, I think the major..." Trip didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The captain and he were jolted as the ship abruptly came out of warp. The comm buzzed.

"Engineering to the Captain." Archer recognised the voice as belonging to Crewman Rostov.

"Archer here. What's the problem down there? Why aren't we at warp?"

"Unknown, sir. We're getting some strange readings from the warp reactor. Is Commander Tucker with you, sir?"

"Yeah, I'm here, " Trip replied. "I'm on my way down now," he informed Rostov, and then directed his attention to the captain. "I guess we'll have to reschedule."

"No problem, Trip. Keep me updated."

Trip nodded as he practically ran out of the Captain's Mess.

* * *

Back in his Ready Room, Archer waited for an update from Engineering. Around half an hour had elapsed since Trip had left to inspect these strange readings and he hadn't reported back to him yet. The captain decided to contact Tucker himself and check on his progress.

"Archer to Tucker," he spoke into the comm.

"Tucker here, sir."

"What's the status of the engines?"

"There was a minor problem with the intermix ratio, Cap'n. I think we grazed an anomaly and it threw the ratio out of synch. We should have warp drive up and running within 5 minutes or so."

"Good work, Trip."

"Thanks, sir. Tucker out."

True to his word, Trip had the warp engines online within five minutes.

Archer decided to spend the rest of his shift in the Command Center. He wanted to study the schematics of the Xindi weapon further, the ones Shran had helped him to obtain a few weeks earlier.

As he walked in he saw T'Pol seated at the console, busily working on something. She turned as she heard him enter.

"Captain," she greeted.

"T'Pol," he returned and smiled directly at her. He felt a warm feeling come over him. He knew he shouldn't let any more opportunities pass him by. Today he'd had a wake up call, and he felt as if fate had given him a second chance.

He walked over to the main viewscreen and started punching certain keys to bring up the schematics.

"Is there something I can help you with?" T'Pol enquired.

"No, thanks," he told her. "I'm just looking up the schematics of the weapon sent by the Andorian ship." T'Pol seemed to be deeply engrossed in her work. He wondered what she was analyzing. "What are you studying so intently?"

"I'm going over the scans we took of the trans-dimensional space where we picked up the alien in an effort to learn more about it," she replied.

"Any luck?"

"The results have been rather disappointing." She looked up at him as she spoke, meeting his eyes. "I had hoped to learn more, but I don't believe Enterprise's scanners are sophisticated enough to pick up the pertinent data I was looking for."

Archer was grateful she hadn't mentioned that Vulcan sensors would more than likely have picked up the information she sought, as she might have when she first boarded Enterprise. He thought how much she had changed in the three years he'd come to know her.

"I appreciate your efforts, nonetheless. Sometimes I think you spend almost as much time here as I do."

"No one spends as much time here as you, sir," she replied.

Was that concern in her voice? He hoped it was.

"Well maybe tonight you could drag me out of here early, T'Pol. We could have dinner together." He was feeling bold, especially after what Hayes had told him earlier today.

"I'm afraid I won't have time tonight, sir. I have other plans. Perhaps another evening?" She'd answered without elaborating on what this prior engagement was. As a Vulcan, she didn't feel it was necessary. She'd reluctantly agreed to dine with Ensign Sato tonight. The young language wizard had found an interesting recipe in the database for a Japanese vegetarian dish and thought that T'Pol was the ideal person to test it out on.

"Oh, okay." Archer tried to hide his disappointment. What were these other plans? He tried to tamp down his curiosity. He turned back toward the viewscreen to study the schematics, when a voice inside his head prompted him to not give up so easily. He made another attempt at an invitation.

"So what about tomorrow night then, you free?"

T'Pol looked up. "I believe tomorrow evening would be convenient."

"Great!" Archer replied, a little too enthusiastically. As he noted the expression of mild surprise that crossed her face, he chided himself for not being subtle enough. Well if all went well, tomorrow she just might be privy to why he was so excitable about their dinner "date". He turned his back to her and with a smile plastered across his face went back to studying the relevant data.

* * *

At the end of their shifts Archer and T'Pol exited the Command Center and went their separate ways. He saw her walk off in the direction of her quarters. He was tired and hungry. It had been a long day, but a good one. He went to his own quarters and changed out of his uniform into something more casualâ€”a pair of black pants and a beige sweater. He was about to make his way to the Captain's Mess, when he thought he'd invite Trip to dinner. T'Pol had plans tonight, but maybe Trip was free. It would give him a chance to bring up Amanda again; also it would be a perfect opportunity to just spend some time together. Jonathan had hardly socialised with anyone since entering the Expanse. He contacted Trip via the comm.

"Tucker here," replied Trip. He was obviously still in Engineering.

"Trip, you free for dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, I believe so, can you give me about half an hour though?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll meet you in the Captain's Mess," Archer informed him.

Thirty minutes later, Commander Tucker entered the captain's dining room and noticed Archer was already eating.

"Couldn't wait, huh?"

"It's weird, Trip, I have such an appetite this evening. Sorry."

"It's good to see, Cap'n. I noticed you'd been losing weight recently."

"Oh? You never said anything."

"Didn't think you'd appreciate it," Trip explained.

One of the galley staff came in and took Trip's order. He was feeling pretty hungry himself.

"Chef made a pecan pie tonight, so remember to save room for that, " Jonathan advised his friend.

"Sounds great," Trip noted.

As they waited for Trip's meal to be served, they talked about the engine diagnostic Trip had ran earlier, the problem with the intermix ratio, and the general repairs. Within 10 minutes Trip's order was brought out. He told the crewman to also bring out 2 pieces of pecan pie. The crewman went to the galley and within a minute returned with the desserts.

"So," began Archer, "I was hoping we could finish our conversation from earlier."

"Oh?"

"Yes about you and Amanda...I mean Corporal Cole."

"Cap'n, I think..."

Archer cut off him off before he could finish. "Trip, it's okay. Hayes told me what happened. I can understand you wanting some female companionship. Remember I am your friend as well as your captain. I think Amanda's a great girl; I'm happy for you. I'm just asking that you exercise a little discretion in public areas. "

"Sir, I gotta be honest with you. Major Hayes has got the wrong idea. There's nothing between me and Amanda."

"There isn't?" Archer felt disappointed. Fear was also rising up within him as he remembered the rumours about Trip and T'Pol that he'd quashed after Hayes had left. "But the Major specifically said..."

"I believe the Major misinterpreted what he saw. It was harmless flirting, but nothin' more. I'm not dating Amanda."

"Oh, well I guess I can save my fraternization speech for another time, right?" Jonathan was trying to keep the mood light-hearted.

"Well sir, since you bring it up, there is something I'd like to ask you."

"Yes?" Jonathan asked as his stomach began to develop very tight knots. He didn't know if he wanted to hear what was coming next.

"How would you feel if I was seeing another member of the crew?"

Archer sighed. Hypothetical question. This he could deal with.

"Well I'd say that as long as it didnâ€™t interfere with your duties, and you were discreet about it, I guess I'd be okay with it."

Trip wondered if he should tell him the whole truth. He really wanted to, to get it off his chest. He didn't like sneaking around with T'Pol, and felt his captain should know they were in a relationship.

Jonathan took a sip of iced tea and wondered why his friend had suddenly gone quiet. It looked as if he was debating something in his head.

"Trip?"

"Sorry, Cap'n, I was lost in thought for a moment." Trip decided to go for the truth and spill the beans. He took a deep breath and in one go blurted out, "I think I should tell you that I've started a relationship with T'Pol."

Jonathan started to cough violently as he tried not to choke on the iced tea he'd just swallowed.

"Cap'n? You all right?" a very alarmed Tucker asked. He saw Archer was turning a little red in the face and wondered whether he should hit him on the back.

"Yes...I'm...fine," Jonathan replied, each word interspersed with a cough. Now was the time to put his acting skills to use. Trip was never to know. Jonathan could not bear to be pitied.

"You sure? You don't sound it."

"I'm fine...just a little surprised."

"I'd say you were more than a little surprised. I didn't think it would shock you that much, I mean Malcolm's been ribbing me about T'Pol for months now. I thought you might have guessed."

Jonathan had guessed. He'd lived with his assumptions day in and day out for several months now, but being so preoccupied with the mission he hadn't allowed himself to spend every waking hour feeling jealous or pondering their rumoured relationship. And part of him had been foolish enough to believe that maybe it wasn't true, after all a rumour is not hard fact. Trip had just presented him with a hard fact. Ah, the reality of truth...it was staring him in the face.

_I thought you might have guessed._

In another time, another place, Jonathan felt he would have been the one to say those words. Why hadn't Trip guessed? He'd been sure on more than one occasion that Trip had intuitively picked up on his feelings for his first officer. He remembered the time Tolaris was onboard; Trip had teased him about being jealous over the amount of time T'Pol was spending with the Vulcan. Of course he'd denied it publicly, but privately he'd known his chief engineer had hit the nail straight on the head. He'd been jealous, terribly jealous.

Now the jealousy was eating away at him more than ever, but this time he couldn't afford to let anyone...especially Trip...pick up on it. He tried to think up some logical answer to explain his surprise.

"Trip, during the first two years of Enterprise's mission I was under the impression that you and T'Pol politely tolerated each other, but nothing more. I realize you two have become more friendly of late, but I was not aware it had developed this far. Besides, I don't have time to listen to idle gossip. I have a ship to run and a mission to fulfil, " Jonathan explained, slipping into Captain mode.

Trip noticed how formal his friend had suddenly become and began to regret his confession. Maybe it hadn't been the wisest choice to open up and be honest.

"So you okay with this?" Trip was hoping to be reassured, but preparing to be chided.

"Well I'm not going to backtrack on what I said before, Trip, though of course with T'Pol the situation is a little different."

"How so?"

"When I'm off the ship, she's acting captain. She might be forced to order you to your death. Think you can handle that? Would your personal feelings for each other compromise her command?"

"I'm aware of that, sir. T'Pol and I are both professionals. We'd never do anything to disappoint you. The crew's wellbeing would always come first. "

"Of course," Archer replied. 'Nothing to disappoint me, huh? Trip, you have no idea,' he thought. He didn't know how he was getting through this conversation. The pain in his chest was acute, he likened it to being stabbed in the chest with a 12 inch kitchen knife, though of course he had no frame of reference. But that was the only way he could describe his pain at the moment. He hoped this would soon be replaced by an overwhelming feeling of numbness, that he could deal with. This feeling of numbness had been his greatest ally in helping him traverse this hell called the Expanse over the course of the last few months.

Trip eyed the captain. Now that the coughing fit was over, he noticed how pale Archer looked. Was his relationship with T'Pol that much of a shock to him? And if yes, why was it affecting him this way? Could it be that maybe...? No, Trip pushed that thought aside.

"So, you okay with this?" Trip asked for the second time, wondering if he was pushing his luck. Now that he'd confessed, he wanted his commanding officer's permission for the relationship to continue.

"Yes, Trip," Jonathan answered with a note of despondency in his voice. He felt like he'd aged 10 years in the space of a few minutes. He was so tired. He just wanted to be alone now. He wished Trip would leave. This charade was difficult to continue.

Only a few hours ago he'd been living in some kind of blissful dream state after Hayes had suggested that Trip and Amanda were involved. That had now been shattered to pieces. Those brief hours when he'd felt so happy seemed like eons ago now.

"Like I said, just be discreet."

"Of course, sir, that goes without saying," Trip replied. His gut instinct told him the captain did seem upset. Maybe blurting out the truth hadn't been his wisest move. He glanced at the pecan pie, but it didn't seem very appetizing anymore.

"T'Pol to Tucker," bleeped the comm. Archer closed his eyes momentarily wondering when this nightmare was going to end. Trip got up to answer the comm.

"Tucker here."

"Commander, you are late for your appointment," T'Pol's voice could be heard saying.

Jonathan cringed at the sound of T'Pol's voice and the message it conveyed. An overwhelming feeling of sadness, loneliness and despair was engulfing him. 'Ah, their neuropressure sessions,' he reminded himself. Well that's what they called them, but he'd just had it confirmed a few minutes previous that there was a lot more going on that just simple neuropressure. His imagination tortured him as an image of T'Pol lying in Trip's arms played through his head. He desperately wanted to just leave, go to his quarters and not be subjected to any more of Trip and T'Pol's conversation.

"I was having dinner with the Captain," Trip said trying to indicate to her that their conversation was not private. "I should be there in ten minutes," he said, pressing the comm button to end the call. Trip felt kind of awkward now, as he knew he couldn't pretend anymore. Archer was not going to be fooled, he knew exactly what these sessions entailed.

"Well you better get going, can't keep the lady waiting," Archer advised.

Trip thought he detected a note of sarcasm in the captain's voice, but then dismissed the idea. "I'll take this with me," he said pointing to the pecan pie. "Thanks for dinner, Captain. And thanks for being so understanding about T'Pol and me. It's really appreciated."

"Sure, isn't that what captains are for? To be understanding of their crew?"

Tucker was almost certain that last line had been delivered with sarcasm. He decided it was time for a fast exit. "I'll see ya in the mornin', sir."

Jonathan nodded and watched him leave. He buried his hands in his face for a moment and tried to control his breathing. 'Yes I'm understanding of my crew, but dammit, who's understanding of me? I'm only human, I have needs too. Am I just supposed to carry on like some automaton?' He could feel himself succumbing to an ocean of self-pity and he couldn't wait to drown in it.

So many emotions were bombarding him at once. His anticipated and hoped for numbness was late. Had Trip caught on to his sarcastic comments? Did he have an inkling that he was in love with T'Pol? Jonathan hoped no one had come to that conclusion. That secret would hopefully follow him to his grave.

He pushed his plate aside and looked at his own slice of pie. He had no yearning for a sugary dessert. Right now, he hungered for an emotional painkiller. He knew he had one waiting for him in his quartersâ€”his bottle of Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey. It was an age-old analgesic, perfect for band-aiding a broken heart and despondent soul, at least for a couple hours.

Crewman Phillips entered to take away the dirty dishes. He noted the captain hadn't touched his dessert.

"Will you be eating that, sir?" he asked him as he pointed to the pecan pie.

"No," Archer replied. "Take it back to the kitchen."

The crewman did as he was ordered and left.

Archer slowly got up and straightened out his spine. All his back muscles felt incredibly tense. They'd practically spasmed when Trip had dropped the bomb on him. His stomach ached; he'd probably have to deal with heartburn later on tonight, the physical and emotional kind. His chest felt tight as well. The initial stabbing pain had subsided, now it was replaced by a dull throbbing ache.

'You fool, listening to Hayes and his stupid theories,' he chided himself. How could he have been so stupid, so dense? He'd allowed wishful thinking to cloud his judgement. Didn't he know from previous experience that gossip was usually 99% accurate? He'd been hearing about Trip and T'Pol for months now. And one word from Hayes and his suspicions had flown out of the window. 'You idiot!' he thought. 'You were practically planning your own wedding with T'Pol, based on someone else's misguided observations.' Jonathan couldn't remember the last time he'd been so duped.

He left the dining room and walked to his quarters with a determined stride. He had a dateâ€”with a bottle of whiskey.

* * *

2nd January, 2154

"T'Pol to Captain Archer." No response. She tried again, still no response. It was 0800 hours and there was no sign of him on the Bridge. This would be the second day in a row he was late for his shift. She checked the computer to determine the captain's whereabouts and saw that he was still in his quarters. She decided to investigate further, and left the Ready Room to go check on himâ€”perhaps he was ill.

She pressed the chime to his room and waited. No response. She tried again, and again. After her fourth attempt, she decided it would be prudent to override the locking mechanism. She had the security clearance to open the door so punched the code in. As the door opened, she stepped inside.

Jonathan Archer lay sprawled across his bed fully dressed, and fast asleep. She assumed the black pants and beige sweater were what he'd worn last night when off duty. Next to him on one side lay Porthos, on the other an empty glass bottle. She looked over at it and read the label: Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey. It was obvious the captain had drunk himself into a state of intoxication last night and fallen asleep fully clothed. Was this his remedy for dealing with stress? Her supposition troubled her deeply; she hoped she was wrong.

Porthos had noticed her and barked. It was loud enough to disturb the captain's sleep.

"Porthos...not so loud...please," Jonathan groggily asked his dog. He tried to clear the sleep from his eyes. As they fully opened he jumped up in surprise.

"T'Pol, how did you get in here?"

"I used the security code. When you didn't answer the comm or your door chime after several attempts I felt it was my only option."

"Oh. What time is it?"

"0810 hours," she replied.

"Damn," he muttered. He'd slept through his alarm two days in a row.

"Are you quite well, sir?" she inquired.

"I'm fine," he snapped. Couldn't a man have a drink without getting the second degree?

"I'll be on the Bridge in ten minutes. Dismissed, Sub-Commander."

He seemed very abrupt with her. She concluded he felt embarrassed, so she departed without saying anything else.

Jonathan got out of bed, undressed and stepped into the shower. His head was pounding and he felt like crap. He knew if he continued like this, he'd soon be relieved of command. He felt ashamed of himself; his behaviour was highly unprofessional. Thank God it had only been T'Pol who'd witnessed his fall from grace, it was hardly an example to set for the crew. Captains weren't afforded the luxury of drowning their personal sorrows in a bottle of liquor every night.

He was angry with himself for allowing this to happen, for entertaining feelings for a woman he'd known wouldn't be able to return them. He should have known better. Boy, would it have been easier if he'd just continued hating her and her species, or if they'd simply come to tolerate each other. He cursed himself for allowing his feelings to develop, to creep up on him. After Margaret Mullin had refused his marriage proposal all those years ago, he'd sworn to himself he'd never let another woman worm her way into his heart. Damn! He was so disappointed in himself. And what had any of this accomplished? Nothing, a big fat nothing.

He exited the shower and got dressed.

* * *

He entered the bridge at 0820 hours and went straight to his Ready Room. He didn't even greet the Bridge crew. She was there again waiting for him. Why couldn't she just leave him alone? He didn't know how he was going to continue working with her, when he knew she spent every night in Tucker's bed. He felt bile rise up from his stomach at that thought.

"The duty roster, sir," she offered it to him as he entered.

"Thanks."

"Captain, I was wondering if you'd like anything special for dinner tonight."

"Huh?" he asked. He wasn't sure what she was talking about.

"You asked me to dinner last night, remember?"

"I did? Oh right...I guess I did." That dinner invitation had been extended by a man who'd lived in hope. He no longer existed.

"Shall I ask Chef to prepare something in particular?"

"T'Pol, I have to cancel."

"Any particular reason?" She'd been hoping to use the opportunity to talk to him about his behaviour of late.

"I don't have time for fraternizing with the crew. I'll probably have a sandwich later in the Command Center."

His decision perplexed her. Yesterday, he'd seemed so enthusiastic about sharing a meal. "Captain, I believe it is important you eat 3 regular meals a day."

"And just where the hell do you get off telling me what I should and shouldn't do?" he suddenly spat out.

T'Pol was taken aback. It was obvious he was angry. But why? She'd merely shown concern and he'd practically erupted. Why was he so on edge? And why would a comment about his eating habits upset him so much? Her instincts told her this had nothing to do with how many meals a day he consumed.

"Captain, I was merely..."

She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence as he interjected, "You aren't my mother, so stop acting like one."

"I don't believe I am acting in a parental manner, sir."

"Save your breath, I don't want to hear it, okay?" He turned his back to her and stared out his port window. Why didn't she just leave? It was bad enough she'd barged into his quarters this morning finding him asleep with the empty whiskey bottle. Would she tell Trip tonight about it...in bed? He just wanted to be left alone. He felt so weary, emotionally exhausted and his head ached.

"I didn't realize expressing concern for fellow colleagues was no longer permissible." T'Pol knew it was dangerous to egg him on like this, but she'd wanted to address his behaviour since entering the Expanse for a long time.

He turned to face her. "Concern huh? I don't need your damn concern!" She'd hit a nerve and he felt she'd overstayed her welcome. "I'm fine. I can handle this. I don't need to be coddled. Why don't you go and concern yourself with Trip?" he replied with a note of anger in his voice. He hadn't thought through what he was saying. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he regretted them.

"Sir?"

He felt exasperated at her fake confusion. "Oh for God's sake T'Pol, don't act all innocent now. I know all about you and Trip, he told me last night. You're lucky I haven't busted you both down to crewmen."

"Captain, I was not aware Commander Tucker had spoken to you on this matter. If you feel the relationship is improper, we will cease seeing each other."

He didn't know how much more he could take. This was beyond torture. Here he was discussing the relationship of his best friend with the woman he loved. Of course it was his own fault, if he hadn't lost his temper, he wouldn't have slipped up on the fact that he knew about them. Trip hadn't asked him to keep it quiet, but he hadn't given him permission to tell T'Pol he knew either.

"No, T'Pol, " he spoke more calmly now. "I don't want you to stop seeing each other. I told Trip that last night. Just be discreet, okay?"

"Of course, sir." She paused for a moment and added, "I hope we can still be friends."

'Friends?' he thought bitterly. 'I don't want your friendship, I want your love. And I guess that's something I'm never going to experience.'

"Sure, T'Pol," he lied. "We are friends. I'm sorry about earlier, I'm just tired and a little out of sorts. I didn't mean to be so abrupt with you. Thanks for your concern. " He hoped she bought his apology.

"Would you like to have dinner together tonight?" she asked.

His wound was too raw, there was no way he could sit across a table from her and make dinner conversation. He needed time to adjust, to get used to this.

"Maybe another time, okay?"

"As you wish, sir."

"Was there anything else?" he asked.

"No, I believe that's all."

"Thanks for the roster. Dismissed."

* * *

The day dragged terribly. The journey to Azati Prime was going to be long and tedious. The only interesting occurrence was Hoshi informing him that the subspace amplifier, which had been malfunctioning for the last two weeks, had now come back online and there were messages from Earth for the crew.

This was good news. The crew needed the morale boost; there wasn't anything that would put more of a smile on their faces than letters from home. He was glad for them. He didn't expect anything for himself. No family meant no letters. Therefore he was rather surprised when later that afternoon Hoshi walked in with a letter for him.

"Sir, this one is for you." She handed him the PADD.

"Are you sure?"

"I believe you're the only Jonathan Archer onboard. Happy reading, sir," she said as she left his Ready Room.

Jonathan was genuinely astonished and intrigued. Who could have written to him? He looked at the PADD and was both pleased and surprised to see who the sender was. Rebecca. He'd seen her last a few days before he'd left for the Expanse. They'd had dinner in a cosy San Francisco restaurant and shared a few memories. He'd known her for several years. They'd dated off and on for about two years and then agreed that friendship was more mutually beneficial and less complicated, especially with Archer's work schedule.

What could she be writing to him about?

He pressed a button on the PADD to access the letter and read it. The letter was dated 10th December, 2153. It had been sent almost a month ago.

_Dear Jonathan,_

_I hope this letter finds you safe and in good health. I find myself often thinking about you and your mission. I know you couldn't share too many specifics with me that day in San Francisco, but I'm sure the mission is dangerous and hazardous._

_My reason for writing is twofold. I wanted to tell you that I and many of my friends often speak of Enterprise, her brave captain and crew and how they are out there in the Expanse trying to save our planet._

_The second reason is I wanted to tell you I'm getting married. Donâ€™t die of shock. I know I once said I wasn't the marrying kind, but I think I've met the right guy this time. Be happy for me._

He paused for a moment to take in her news. He was happy for her, she deserved this. Whoever this guy was, he'd make her a much better husband than he could ever have hoped to be. He continued reading.

_Actually, there is another reason I'm writing too. Jonathan, finding your soul mate and settling down is important. I know you've always put your career first, and relationships second, but you're aren't getting any younger. I think it is time you settled down. I know you're in love with her, why not tell her?_

_I can just imagine your expression right now as you read this. You're wondering who I'm talking about, right? Jonathan, you seem to forget I can read you like a book. You spoke enough times about T'Pol during our last dinner for me to pick up on your feelings for her. I heard the disappointment in your voice when you told me she'd been reassigned to Vulcan. I was very happy to hear that she'd resigned her commission with the Vulcan High Command and followed you into the Expanse. Surely that says something, doesn't it Jonathan?_

_Why don't you tell her the truth? Tell her how much you care and that you love her. I don't believe a Vulcan would just give up her commission on a whim. You might be surprised to learn she returns your feelings. Trust me on this one, Jonathan. You weren't meant to be alone. Believe me._

_I don't know if you are able to write back, but if you can, drop me a line to let me know you're okay. And think of me on the 2nd January, I'll be walking down the aisle and bidding single life goodbye._

_Love_

_Rebecca_

He put the PADD down and tried to digest its contents. Rebecca was getting married...today. She could be walking down the aisle at this very moment. Secondly, she'd known about his feelings for T'Pol. He'd never realized that he'd hinted at them, but guessed that Rebecca was right when she said she could read him like a book. It was probably woman's intuition or something like that. He couldn't deal with her advice right now though, not while on duty. Rebecca's words had meant to encourage, he knew she'd had no idea they would cause him further pain. He turned the PADD off. He still had several hours of his shift to get through.

* * *

He had dinner alone in his quarters, sitting at his desk. After eating he decided to take another look at Rebecca's letter. He picked up the PADD and began to read.

_I don't believe a Vulcan would just give up her commission on a whim. You might be surprised to learn she returns your feelings._

As his eyes passed over this line again he concluded it was a mistake to reread the letter. It unhinged him emotionally. He placed the PADD down on the desk, he couldn't read any further as his vision was beginning to get blurred by tears.

Could Rebecca have been right? Why had T'Pol entered the Expanse and resigned her commission? He'd assumed it was out of loyalty and her response had always been that it was the logical thing to do. There had been moments when they'd been alone together that he'd allowed himself to hope, to think that maybe she cared. Only last week she'd acted so concerned for him when Degra had attacked him with a knife. As she'd called out to him, he'd heard the emotion in her voice. Now he gathered that had been the concern of a friend, nothing more.

Had it ever been more than friendship for her? It saddened him deeply to think he'd never know. What if it had though? What if Rebecca was right? Was this just a case of bad timing? If he hadn't been so focused on the mission, and so dismissive of her recently, would she have turned to him instead of Trip? He couldn't help wondering how things might have worked out differently if he'd opened up his heart to her, instead of closing her out.

He would never be the recipient of her kisses. He'd never hear her utter endearments to him. He'd never have the pleasure of waking up with her. Those joys now belonged to Trip.

Why hadn't this letter come a few weeks earlier? Damn the subspace amplifier for breaking down! Rebecca's words might have spurred him on to open up to T'Pol and tell her how he felt. Maybe it wouldn't have been too late.

He'd had plenty of opportunities to tell T'Pol how he felt but he'd never been sure of her response. Now in hindsight, he wished he'd gambled with his heart. The worst possible outcome would have been that she didn't feel the same way. Now he'd never know what her answer might have been.

He could have said something the day after Porthos recovered from the Kreetassan virus, or after T'Pol's hearing in regard to her Pa'nar syndrome. He could even have said something to her in San Francisco, before they departed for the Expanse. But no, he'd kept quiet and now he was paying heavily for his mistake.

Jonathan had never loved any woman the way he loved T'Pol. After Margaret left him, he'd been certain he'd never experience that depth of feeling again. How wrong he'd been. Margaret had been the first passionate love of a man in his early twenties. His love for T'Pol was a deeper, refined, more mature love of a man in his early forties.

But what was the point in contemplating all of this? He was just making himself feel worse. 'Face it, Archer, she belongs to Trip,' he told himself. Oh, but how he hated the thought of having to put on a pretense, but he knew he'd have to. He would act happy for them and wish them both well.

Why was life so unfair? Hadn't he paid his dues? He'd lost his mother at a young age, his father when he was in his late twenties and for most of his adult life he'd been alone. It seemed now he was destined to spend the rest of it that way too.

He couldn't hold back the floodgates any longer and gave into the tears. He didn't care anymore. There was no one to hide from. He was alone in his quarters. The tears quickly turned to sobs as he buried his face in his hands. His whole body shook as the sadness overwhelmed and engulfed him. He took quick sharp breaths as the tears began to choke him.

He hated himself, he hated the mission, he hated Trip and T'Pol for betraying him. It felt like betrayal. Surely he'd made it known to Trip that he felt something for T'Pol. And T'Polâ€”maybe he hadn't been obvious enough, but he'd certainly given her hints. How could they do this to him? Oh yes he could pretend he was okay with it around them, but inside he was seething.

They were both senior officers. They knew the rules. Maybe he was being too lenient as captain. But what would be the point in breaking them up now? It would just mean two more unhappy people. But how he wished this hadn't happened. How had it happened? It seemed almost inconceivable. Before this mission, T'Pol had barely tolerated Trip. Trip hadn't seemed too fond of her either as he'd told Jonathan he was glad she wasn't joining them in the Expanse and that he wouldn't have to deal with her non-interference crap anymore.

When had that all changed? Were neuropressure sessions enough to cement a relationship? He guessed they were. Hell any normal healthy human male would get aroused by T'Pol touching them. He just wished it had been him. He'd wished Phlox had asked her to help him instead of Trip. He wanted to experience her fingers touching his spine and neural nodes. He wanted to feel her hands caressing him. But he'd never know, never feel, never experience...fate had deemed Trip to be the lucky recipient of that knowledge.

Thirty minutes passed. He felt a little more composed now. The outburst had relieved a lot of pent up tension from months past. He'd read somewhere once that crying was good for you, it released toxic chemicals from the body.

He went to the bathroom and washed his face. The cold water he splashed onto himself revived him. He concluded that what had happened half an hour ago had been a momentary lapse. There was no harm done as no one else had witnessed it.

He studied himself in the mirror and steeled his resolve to somehow get through this. He searched for his inner strength and found it. No more emotional outbursts, no more drowning in self-pity. He'd continue as before and bury his feelings so deep that even he couldn't dig them back up again. No one would ever know. He was not to be pitied. He would be numb to all emotion, and somehow he'd get through this and accomplish his all important missionâ€”to save Earth.

Let Trip and T'Pol continue their affair. He'd turn a blind eye to it. Why should he care what they did in their off hours?

He could feel his heart turn to ice. He'd never permit to it to entertain feelings for anyone again. He looked at his reflection again. Yes, this was a man people respected, even feared. He'd be the captain Malcolm had always wantedâ€”cold, hard and unfeeling.

He exited his quarters and walked with renewed determination towards the Command Center. There was work to be done, databases to be studied and weapons to be found. On to Azati Prime!


End file.
